


Remembering Why

by KatieSkarlette



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Bathing/Washing, F/M, Flashbacks, Foreplay, Implied Sexual Content, Memory Loss, One Shot, Secret Relationship, Slice of Life, Tragic Romance, Undead, Undeath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 01:04:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15652608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieSkarlette/pseuds/KatieSkarlette
Summary: Nathanos Marris had a good life before he fell to the Scourge. He had gained acclaim as the first human to join the Farstriders of Quel'thalas, attained the rank of Ranger Lord despite the objections of many elves, and had captured the heart of Ranger General Windrunner herself. Those memories had crumbled away just like his undead form, until he gained a new body--and with it vivid recollections of what he and Sylvanas had meant to each other. They are now Blightcaller and Banshee Queen, and things will never be as they were, but the bond between them remains.  [First half set in pre-Scourge Quel'thalas, second half set midway through Legion.]





	Remembering Why

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have much experience writing undead characters, and canon is vague about what the Forsaken can and cannot feel. "Dark Mirror" did say that Nathanos' sense of smell improved once he took over his cousin's corpse, and he felt a pang of regret for the first time since his death. I think it's fair to extrapolate that other emotions began to seep through, as well.

To the untrained eye, only a light summer breeze moved the golden leaves overhead, but to the Ranger General of Quel'thalas the path of her colleagues was--well, not obvious, for these were the most skilled rangers under her command, but traceable.

One dead leaf fluttered down from a tree to her left, and Sylvanas squinted in disapproval. That would be Halduron, she guessed. He was good, but he could get sloppy when speed was required.

A quiet rustle of leather made her look to the right, where two figures dropped out of the canopy. Both Lor'themar and Nathanos had their legs wrapped around the tree limbs from whence they had come, dangling upside down. Within the blink of an eye, both had drawn their bows and fired five arrows at a target mounted nearby. The last arrows were still quivering in the wood when the two rangers disappeared as silently as they had come. Halduron emerged from the trees a heartbeat later, fired off five shots at the same target, and took off in pursuit. Over the next few seconds, three other elves repeated the sequence--although not all their arrows landed true--and continued on.

Sylvanas nodded slowly in approval. Even the slowest competitor was faster than they had been three months ago.

The barely perceptible movement in the trees circled back around toward where they had started, by the entrance to the training ground. Lor'themar emerged from the trees first, leaping gracefully down to land on top of a carefully-stacked mountain of barrels. Had his balance not been perfect, the whole arrangement would have come crashing down. It barely swayed.

The elf leapt down each layer of barrels, rapidly firing arrows at a nearby board. There was hardly a pause between the light snap of his bow and the thunk of the arrows hitting the wood.

By the time Lor'themar's feet hit the grass, Nathanos was barely two steps behind him, having cleared the barrels with just as much precision and slightly more speed.

So far the two frontrunners had both hit every single target with their arrows, and Sylvanas gave a thin smile. They made it look easy, but she knew better than anyone the concentration, skill and reflexes required.

Hearing the human's footsteps closing in, Lor'themar put on a burst of speed. It was not enough, and they reached the next obstacle at exactly the same time.

A sheer wall loomed above them, easily three times even the human's height. The handholds were few and awkwardly spaced, but both rangers began climbing upward with practiced speed. Halduron sprinted to the wall when the leaders were about halfway up, and wasted no time in starting his ascent

Sylvanas' attention was briefly drawn back to the previous obstacle, where two of the three other competitors had fallen in a loud clatter of barrels. The last remaining ranger, an elf with her dark hair up in a severe bun, dodged free of the rolling barrels and headed toward the wall with renewed energy. Now all she had to do was pass one of the others to earn a commendation.

Nathanos scaled halfway down the other side of the wall, then leapt away from it, performing a somersault in the air before hitting the grass in a tucked roll. Almost in the same motion, he sprang back to his feet and raced forward.

Lor'themar's dismount was just as smooth, but his roll lacked some of the power behind the human's, and he found himself several paces behind. Halduron was gaining on them, as well, while the last ranger was just reaching the top of the wall.

With victory in sight, Nathanos remained completely focused, eyes never straying from the course ahead. The last obstacle was a ditch that yawned across the field. Jumping across it wasn't much of a challenge, but the difficulty of spotting the dropoff amid the tall, waving grass made it perilous.

Nathanos sped up and leaped at just the right moment, clearing the ditch in a perfect arc. He didn't so much as wobble when he landed, and continued on toward the finish line, where a dozen Farstriders were waiting to see the outcome of the event.

Lor'themar had misjudged the jump ever so slightly and had to spend a few precious seconds regaining his balance upon landing. Halduron was right on his heels, given an extra surge of the energy at the thought of overtaking his colleague.

Nathanos skidded to a stop upon reaching a line painted onto the grass, drew his bow, and sent his final arrow into the air. It collided with the brass bell hanging from a nearby archway, and at the sound the gathered crowd burst into cheers and applause. The noise of Lor'themar's arrow hitting the same mark was lost in the sound of celebration, as were those of the other two as they reached the finish line.

Only now did Nathanos allow himself to smile. Some of the elves were genuinely happy for him, clapping him on the back and hollering congratulations. Others were applauding politely for his victory while making apologetic shrugs at Lor'themar and the others. Two near the back of the gathering weren't even bothering with such pleasantries, glaring at the human as if he had done something wrong by winning the race.

All stepped aside as the Ranger General rode through their midst on an armored hawkstrider. Her pale golden hair streamed behind her, free of its hood for now. Sylvanas vaulted from the saddle and walked toward Nathanos with a radiant smile. "Well done, Captain Marris! Very well done!  Every arrow on the mark, and every obstacle cleared flawlessly!"  She produced a small, golden disc from her pocket.  "An award well-earned, champion!"

He saluted her while she affixed the gleaming medallion onto the front of his green-and-brown tunic.

"You honor me, my lady." His smile widened even as he made a point to avoid eye contact.

Sylvanas' hand lingered against his chest for perhaps a moment longer than propriety allowed before turning to Lor'themar. "And I do believe you just broke your personal speed record, Lord Theron.  Not to mention your aim was perfect, as always. An excellent showing!"

Lor'themar had been watching Nathanos with a slight sneer, but he quickly lightened his expression and saluted when the Ranger General faced him. "I do my best, Ranger General," he said with a modest nod.

Sylvanas pinned a silver medallion onto Lor'themar's vest.

Despite the effort put forth by the black-haired ranger to overtake him, Halduron had managed to finish third, and graciously accepted the bronze medallion from his commander.

Sylvanas gave an encouraging smile to the fourth-place finisher. "You did very well, also. Didn't miss a single target. Keep training, and next time I have a feeling you'll be leaving the rest in the dust."

"A lofty goal to be sure, Ranger General.  Perhaps _too_ lofty, but I'll keep trying."

"Oh, hush.  I have faith in you."

The ranger beamed happily at such praise from her commanding officer.

Sylvanas turned to address the gathering, including the two elves who had dropped out of the race after the barrel debacle. "An excellent showing. I hope those of you who chose not to compete learned a thing or two from watching the best in action.  Each of you is capable of such prowess if you put your minds to it and train hard. You are Quel'thalas' finest, the first line of defense against those who would bring harm to our people. You are each an invaluable asset to the kingdom." She faced one group of younger elves in particular. "You who have completed your first year of training should be especially proud. Just being accepted into our elite ranks is an honor that many dream of, and few achieve. Fewer still can endure the training required to become a Farstrider, but you have passed your trials with honor. I look forward to seeing you continue to improve."

The more experienced rangers gave the newest members of their ranks a round of applause.

Sylvanas hopped back onto her hawkstrider and smiled down at them all. "Some of you are scheduled to leave on patrol in a few hours, but the rest may have the rest of the day for rest and relaxation. You've earned it. Training will resume bright and early tomorrow, as usual." She raised a fist toward the sky. "For Quel'thalas!"

"For Quel'thalas!" echoed the crowd.

With that, Sylvanas snapped the reins of her mount and rode off toward the Farstriders' headquarters.

As the participants began to scatter, Halduron approached Nathanos. "Good show, Marris," he said, extending a hand.

Nathanos shook his hand. "Thank you. You have nothing to be ashamed of, either."

"Except losing to a _human_ ," drawled Lor'themar, ambling up beside Halduron. "No offense."

Nathanos' thick eyebrows came together in a scowl. "I won this fair and square, _Lord_ Theron."

"True," Lor'themar conceded with a sour expression. "The General's favor had nothing to do with your success...this time."

Nathanos took a step toward him. "Ranger General Windrunner holds me to the same standard as the rest of you. Nothing more," he snapped.

Halduron put a hand on Lor'themar's arm and tried to guide him away. "Let's go clean up and find something to eat. I don't know about you, but I worked up quite an appetite."

Lor'themar opened his mouth to continue goading the human but thought better of it. With one last hostile glare, he turned and followed Halduron toward the barracks.

The fourth-place finisher had been standing to the side, trying not to look like she was eavesdropping. Now she stepped forward and shook hands with Nathanos. "Congratulations, Captain Marris. You were in fine form today. Most impressive."

He diffused some of his anger with a sigh, then managed a smile for her. "Thanks. I was having a good day."

"And I was having a bad one," she said with a self-mocking grimace. "But now, with the rest of the afternoon off, I have a feeling it's about to get better. There's a spa treatment with my name on it.  Do you humans have such things?"  She hurried on without giving him a chance to answer.  "I'm sorry; I've never been to one of your cities.  I'm sure they're lovely.  Anyway, see you tomorrow!"

"Uh...yeah.  You too."

She waved and departed, leaving Nathanos with a few stragglers who were talking among themselves and ignoring him.

He looked around awkwardly for a moment, and when no one seemed to be interested in including him in their plans, walked away. He brushed leaves out of his dark brown hair with one hand as he followed the winding cobblestone path through the woods. A fence of twisted white metal with gold trim separated the path from the narrow lawn that ran around the outside of the Farstriders' headquarters.

Nathanos walked slowly, feeling his limbs grow heavy as adrenaline faded into exhaustion. No matter what he did, the high elves always saw him as an outsider. Some were friendly and some were outright rude, while the majority saw him as a sort of curiosity to be noted but not taken seriously. It grew tiresome. At times he found himself almost unbearably homesick for the farm back in the Eastweald where he had grown up, but the desire to prove himself kept him from going back.

"What a dour expression for someone who just earned top honors on the most difficult training course the Farstriders have to offer," came a silky voice.

He stopped in his tracks and looked up to see Sylvanas grinning down at him from her perch on the railing of a second-floor balcony.  One leg dangled lazily over the edge, and she lounged back against the wall, as relaxed as if she were stretched out on a divan in a posh sitting room.  Her golden hair hung loose, floating around her face in the breeze.  The dark blue of her leather armor brought out the even brighter blue of her eyes.  The effect was that of a goddess stepped out of an oil painting, and Nathanos forgot to breathe for a few moments.

Well, perhaps proving himself wasn't the _only_ desire keeping him in Quel'thalas.

The sight of her brought a grin onto his face.

"There's that smile," she teased. "If you don't have other plans, I thought perhaps we could...celebrate your victory." She wound a strand of hair around her finger with an impish smirk.

His fatigue forgotten, Nathanos sprang up onto the fence and then launched himself toward her, catching the balcony's railing across his stomach.

Sylvanas nimbly jumped back, thwarting his plans for a kiss.  "Tsk.  Show off."

She steadied him as he climbed over the railing, then allowed his lips to brush against hers for just a moment before turning to head back inside.

He followed her into the corridor.  "I wasn't about to waste time walking all the way around and using the stairs when I got an invitation like that," he said with a cheeky grin.

"I'm just glad you still have that much energy left."  A devious smirk twisted her lips.  She clearly had ideas about what to do with the rest of his energy.

Nathanos cleared his throat and glanced around to make sure they were alone.  They were, for the moment.  He knew the way to her quarters as well as his own, but he still let her lead the way. They passed through several deserted hallways.  It seemed the rest of the Farstriders were enjoying their free afternoon elsewhere.

"So _now_ are you going to let me name you a Ranger Lord?" she asked quietly as they passed by a larger-than-life statue of her ancestor, Talanas Windrunner, the first ranger general of the Farstriders.

He grimaced. "The others--"

"Let me worry about the others," she interrupted.

"They'll never accept a human Ranger Lord," he said, keeping his voice low. "They barely tolerate me now."

"You're more than qualified. You've passed every test, completed every program. Today you beat three Ranger Lords on the elite training course! Three of them, Nathanos!"

"Which did nothing to endear me to any of them, I assure you," he growled.

They reached the door to her quarters, and she waved a hand over the handle. The enchantment on the lock recognized her, and the door swung open immediately. Golden light globes inside blinked to life as they entered.

Sylvanas' quarters were opulent, befitting her rank and station, but also practical. Oak weapon racks lined the entryway, filled with a number of bows, swords, polearms and other blades. Her desk was carved with swirling designs and inlaid with gold, but topped with a simple ink well and piles of barely-organized parchments.

She took off her blue, hooded cloak and hung it on a hook, then continued on into the living portion of her quarters. Three divans surrounded a stylized statue of a water elemental that spilled an endless stream from its mouth into the round fountain below. Beyond that was a picture window affording a breathtaking view of Eversong Woods' yellow and orange trees stretching far into the distance.

She barely glanced at the vista, instead opening a door on the far side of the room. He trailed after her in silence.

Her personal bathroom was spacious, furnished with a large marble tub and gleaming crystal fixtures. "You'll want a bath," she said, not leaving him any room to disagree. His leather armor was smeared with dirt, leaves, and even a few pine needles, and his hair was stringy with sweat.

Sylvanas murmured an incanation, and steaming water began to gush from the golden faucet. Mindful of his preferences, she chose the least fragrant soap to create bubbles.

Nathanos stood with his arms crossed on his chest, leaning against the doorway. "They all know," he blurted suddenly.

She turned with a questioning noise.

"The other rangers. Lor'themar and the rest. They know we're..." He made a vague gesture between them.

"Lovers?" she supplied, enjoying the flush this brought to his cheeks.

"Yes. I don't know how they know, but they know."

"Is that a problem?"

"They think you're playing favorites. That my advancement through the ranks is because of your influence."

Sylvanas blew air out of her mouth dismissively. "All they need to do is watch you on the practice range to know you're an amazing archer. Your times on the obstacle courses are near the top every time. You've completed every training program we offer with the highest possible scores. You've been honored time and time again for your deeds in the field. You have obviously earned everything with your own skill. My opinion of you has nothing to do with it." The tub was full enough, so she stopped the water, then stepped closer to him with a comforting smile. "Don't let their jealous gossip shake your confidence, my love."

"It's not that. I... I worry about what all this is doing to your reputation."

"My reputation?" She tilted her head in amusement. "I come from a noble house. I'm the Ranger General of Quel'thalas. My reputation is just fine, I assure you."

"But if they think you're being unfair, favoring me because of our relationship--"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not. _You_ know that, and yours is the only opinion I care about. Let them talk. _I'm_ in charge, and that's that." She began to unfasten the clasps holding his shoulder armor on.

"I... I just don't want to cause problems for you. I know a lot of important people were upset when you accepted me into the Farstriders in the first place."

She gave him a reassuring smile, then a short kiss. "We weren't lovers, then."

"Well...true."

She removed his pauldrons and tossed them aside. "I believed in your potential. You're like no human I've ever met. I wanted to see what you could become with the proper training."

He passively stood and let her tug the gloves off his hands.

"And I was right. You've turned into an excellent ranger."

She slid the outer layer of his chest armor off and laid it on the counter, then began to peel the sweat-soaked shirt from his torso.

"The fact that you're a rather attractive man who makes me very, _very_ happy is merely a bonus." She grinned wickedly and ran her hands down his muscled chest and abdomen.

He leaned down to kiss her. "I love you, Sylvanas," he whispered. "Light help me, I love you so much."

"I love you too," she said, pulling back to look into his eyes. "And I would love you even if you were a terrible archer who flunked out of Farstrider training."

"Oh?" He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Of course. I do _not_ , however, love how you smell right now. So hurry up, before the water gets cold." She laughed as he made a show of being dejected on his way to the tub.

He removed his belt and flung it aside. His thumbs hooked the waistband of his pants, ready to pull them down, but he paused and looked over his shoulder at her. "Do you plan on staying to watch?"

Sylvanas leaned back against the counter with her arms folded on her chest. "This is _my_ bathroom, in _my_ quarters."

"Suit yourself," he said with an amused snort. He stepped out of his pants and into the tub, acutely aware of her gaze upon him. He dunked his head and set about washing his hair, making a point of not looking at her.

"Don't forget to wash behind your ears," she said, and he knew she was grinning just from the glee in her voice.

"I imagine that's a big deal for you elves. Those ears of yours must take a lot of cleaning."

She made an indignant noise.

"You also have a lot more hair than I do."

He heard the rustle of fabric behind him and the sound of her now-empty boots being pushed aside. Oh... He smirked and pretended not to notice.

"True," Sylvanas said, "although I must say, your beard is far more impressive than any I've seen on one of my own people. The hair on your chest is thicker, too. Are all humans as fuzzy as you are?"

He gave a snorting laugh and scrubbed his armpits with the bar of soap she had left out on the ledge. "I haven't seen all humans, so I couldn't tell you."

"Don't be smart." There was a quiet thump as more of her armor hit the floor.

"I thought you liked my intelligence." He rubbed soap on his back, still refusing to turn around and acknowledge her probable state of undress.

"I meant don't be a smartass."

"I thought you liked my ass," he said, barely able to keep the laughter out of his voice.

"You are so damned exasperating sometimes."

"But at least I'm clean, now."

"Are you?" Bare footsteps padded closer. "Not that I don't trust you, but I do believe a little inspection is in order." A hand came to rest on the back of his shoulder. "After all, I wouldn't want to--eek!"

He suddenly turned around and pulled her into the tub with him, sending a wave of soapy water onto the floor. As expected, she was naked now, too.

"How dare you--?" she began, but her feigned anger gave way to laughter as they flailed clumsily. "Nathanos, you great lunkhead! What if I had had clothes on?"

"But you don't," he said, running his hands down her sides. "I'm a highly trained ranger, remember? My senses are attuned to observing minute details...like the sound of you getting undressed."

She pouted briefly, then abandoned pretense and slid onto his lap. "Is this any way to treat your commanding officer?"

"No. Is this?" He pulled her against him and trapped her mouth in a deep kiss that left her mind blank except for the thought of wanting more.

 

* * *

 

 

The Banshee Queen's Champion blinked slowly--the gesture itself an unneeded affectation for one of the undead--and brought himself back to the present. There was no scent of soap bubbles now, only the stench of the Undercity: a nauseating bouquet of mold, rot, mustiness, and decay. It had been difficult to adjust in the days following his transfer to his cousin's fresh corpse, when his senses suddenly became sharper than they had been in years.

He was clothed, of course, although the bulky greatcoat and dark leather armor he wore now was a far cry from the garb of an elite Quel'thalas ranger.

The rich oak paneling and crystal light fixtures were also long gone. Discolored, damp stone made up the walls and floor, and vaguely sinister torches danced in wall sconces.

The biggest change, however, was the woman beside him. The shining golden hair that had framed her face was brittle and leeched of all color. Her skin, once so soft and pink, was an unnatural shade of pale blue that cracked and flaked around her joints. Eyes that once looked upon him with a flash of sky blue now glowed an eerie red. The lyrical voice that had sent pleasant shivers down his spine was flat and cold, echoing with an unnatural pitch around the vaulted ceiling of the Banshee Queen's seat of power.

Sylvanas wasn't paying any attention to him at the moment. She stood tall, one hand on her hip and the other pointing in various directions as she issued orders to the Horde commanders assembled before her. Her status as Warchief was still fairly new, but giving commands came naturally to her. If not for the context of the words she was speaking and the ghostly reverberation of her voice, Nathanos could have closed his eyes and imagined she was back in front of her rangers, coordinating the defense of Quel'thalas.

He blamed the sudden flashback on that, although such memories had been intruding more and more as of late. He hadn't mentioned it to Sylvanas, even though she was keenly interested to know how the process of transferring his soul from one corpse to another had affected him. He wasn't entirely sure why he had kept it to himself. Perhaps he didn't want to bother her with trifles. Perhaps he was afraid she wouldn't remember events the same way as he did. Perhaps he didn't want to defile such dear memories by speaking them into the fetid air of the Undercity. Perhaps he didn't want her to know the extent of the power she still had over him.

It wasn't uncommon for some Forsaken to fixate on a fragment of their past, if they even remembered their lives before.  Most of the time this obsession revolved around vengeance.  

Nathanos' anchor had always been Sylvanas.  After he met his demise fighting the Scourge on his family's farmstead, everything was a haze of unquenchable bloodthirst and anger...until she found him.  It was her will that had broken him free of the Lich King, her voice that had pierced the fog around his mind and called him back to himself again.  His soul resonated with hers just as it always had, even if his memory of their history together was hazy.

For years he had served as her champion, knowing with unwavering certainty that she was the most important, cherished person in the world, yet not recalling _why_.  He had made do with unfocused glimpses, like a half-remembered dream. 

But now, since his battered body had been replaced with a fresher, stronger one, it had all been seeping back.  Her smile.  Her laugh.  Her touch.  All the hours they had spent roaming the forests, so at peace with each other and with the wilderness around them.  Her warm hands on top of his, correcting his form at archery practice.  The weight of her body in his arms when she developed a fever on a patrol mission and he had carried her back to the lodge.  The thrill of her long fingers threading through his hair as they bathed together in a crystalline mountain waterfall.  The way her eyes would narrow when she was frustrated with him, yet her mouth always betrayed a hint of a smile.  Hushed moments of intimacy when they managed to sneak off together.  Pride when she promoted him to Ranger Lord in open defiance of all those who objected to a human rising to such a rank.  The way she could chase away all his homesickness with a single kiss when he was in Quel'thalas.  The creative reasons she devised to explain her visits to the Eastweald when he went home to help with the fall harvest.  Making love under the stars on a bed of golden leaves.  All the hundreds of tiny moments between them swirled in his mind like the shattered fragments of a broken mirror catching the sunlight.

Snapping back to the present again, Nathanos realized he had long since lost track of what his queen was saying, and he didn't attempt to pick it up again.  He watched her, though, once more trying to reconcile the vibrant elf from his memories with the ruthless creature beside him.

Undeath dulled all positive emotions.  Anger, hatred, despair, bitterness, rage, disdain...those were all easy feelings to muster.  Emotions like compassion, empathy, mercy, joy, and love were sluggish to develop and difficult to sustain. 

The bright, tender, encouraging, mischievous spirit was long gone from Sylvanas Windrunner.  She wasn't completely unrecognizable; she was still quick-witted, stubborn, brilliant, and unwilling to back away from a challenge.  Yet she was also grim, unforgiving, harsh, and hard-hearted, with little patience for sentiment.  

He knew deep in his soul that the man he had been in life would not have loved what Sylvanas had become.  But he was not that man any longer.

And he loved her.  Emotions he thought he would never feel again washed over him when she was near.  She was the center of his world, the only thing that mattered, all that remained from life before the Scourge swept over their lands.  The cold pit where his heart should have beat constantly burned with twin desires:  to serve and protect her in any way possible, and to annihilate every last one of her enemies.

"--our enemies!" Sylvanas finished, earning cheers and roars from the Horde officers she had been addressing.

Nathanos once more pulled himself out of his reverie, giving no visible sign of where his mind had been.

The briefing was over, and the Banshee Queen dismissed the Horde officers. He stood silently beside her as the trolls, orcs, tauren, pandaren, blood elves, and goblins filed out of the room.

When only the royal guards remained, Sylvanas turned to him. "Come, my Champion. We have things to discuss."

He bowed. "As you wish, Dark Lady."

She walked past him, and it appeared that she was about to collide with the stone wall. When she reached it, however, there was a slight shimmer, and she disappeared without breaking stride. Ah. Yet another secret passage. There were plenty throughout the Undercity, and she knew them all.

Nathanos followed her through the false door and down a dark passageway that was so narrow he might have been uncomfortable, had he been claustrophobic--or alive.

The passage angled upward for awhile, then curved to the left. Sylvanas stopped, uttered a brief incantation, and upon hearing a click pushed open yet another hidden door. On the other side was her private study, a room he had been in many times before without noticing this secret entrance. Although shutters were bolted shut over both windows, he knew they were now above ground, in the ruins of the old Capital City of Lordaeron.

Magical braziers flared to life at her silent command, casting a pale, flickering glow over the full bookshelves that lined the walls. Keeping such tomes above the surface, away from the pervading dampness, was a wise choice.

Unlike the Undercity proper, this room was devoid of the macabre skeleton motif. Most of the furniture dated back to when humans occupied the city, while the wing-backed chair at her desk had a distinctly high elven design.  A dusty globe of Azeroth stood in one corner, made hopelessly outdated by the Cataclysm.  A brilliant sapphire pendant lay on a velvet pillow on a shelf directly behind the desk, protected by a glass dome.  It was the only decoration to be seen.

Sylvanas sat down at her desk and settled in with her gloved hands clasped in front of her, apparently deep in thought.

Nathanos stood before her, waiting for permission to sit. When she didn't give it, he spoke. "What did you wish to discuss, my queen?"

Her luminous red eyes turned to give him an appraising look. "How do you feel?" Her tone was matter-of-fact, as if discussing supply levels or troop movements, but her attention was riveted on his answer.

He hadn't been expecting that. "I... I am well, Dark Lady. This body is a blessing I would never have dreamed of. I thank you for it once again, my queen."

She squinted at him as if trying to see invisible answers on his pallid face. "You have been distracted, Blightcaller. I asked you a question back there and you didn't respond."

Had his heart still been capable of beating, it would have missed one. "You did? I-- I-- I beg your pardon, my lady. It won't happen again." He dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

"I'm not angry. I'm curious. Normally you hang on every word I say." A hint of a smirk tugged at one corner of her mouth. "What could have possibly stolen your attention away?"

He looked up at her, mouth half-open as he tried to decide how much to tell her. "Dark Lady, I... I am still adjusting to this body. That is all. I experience things a bit differently now, and it can be...disconcerting."

"In what way?" she pressed.

"I... I remember things. Things I haven't thought about since my death. And the memories are more...vivid. Sometimes they come out of nowhere. This one was particularly ill-timed. A thousand apologies, my queen."

"Hmm." Sylvanas studied him for another moment, then gestured for him to take a seat.

He did, but kept his posture rigid and formal.

She frowned, lacing her fingers together under her chin. "I recall a similar experience when I reclaimed my body. It's to be expected, going from an incorporeal form to inhabiting a body again. Your situation is different, but I imagine some of the, uh, side effects are similar." Her voice trailed off, and her eyes lost focus as she remembered the horrors she had endured. The pain that flickered across her face might have gone unnoticed by anyone else, but Nathanos reacted immediately.

He got up from his chair and stepped around her desk, then bent down to gather her into his arms. She said nothing but didn't resist. After a moment she even sank into him, tucking her head against his shoulder. He began to pat her back slowly, and she wrapped her arms tighter around him.

There was nothing to say. He now had a better understanding of what she had gone through, and not even the dampening of emotion that came with undeath could stop him from feeling a swell of sympathy and sorrow for her.

Living bodies would have protested after being locked in the same, slightly awkward position for too long, but they were beyond such concerns. They simply stayed like that, she in her chair and he crouched protectively over her, embracing tightly for what could have been a half hour or more.

It was a level of sentiment and vulnerability that she rarely allowed herself to show, making the moment all the more precious.

"Do you remember?" he asked at last. "How it used to be, between us? How many hours we spent in each other's arms? How one look from you could leave me breathless?"

"You're still breathless," she said with a hint of amusement.

He shook with a single, harsh laugh. "At least something hasn't changed."

Sylvanas drew back from him, shaking her head but smiling ever so slightly. "Yes.  I remember.  I know you didn't, the way you were before...  I hoped having a more... _intact_ body would jog your memory."

"I've never forgotten how much I love you," he said fervently.

"No, but it felt like you had forgotten _why_." Her tone was flippant, but again he sensed the hurt beneath.

"I remember now. And I'm never leaving your side again. Death itself couldn't keep us apart, and nothing ever will." He put a hand on the back of her neck, gently pulling her closer again.

As kisses went, it was a miserable failure. Nothing worked quite like it was supposed to, and the worst morning breath seemed like a fresh breeze in comparison.

"Let's...not do that again," she said, brushing a hand across her lips.

He made a sour face and nodded.

"You can hold me again, though.  If you like."

He gazed into her eyes, their red glow matching his own, and stroked hair off her cheek with a gloved hand.  "I am yours to command, Dark Lady."

She stood up and stepped into his arms.  They kept their eyes closed, and for just a moment he could imagine that their blood still flowed, that he could feel her heartbeat against his chest and her breath on his neck, that this was all some kind of hideous nightmare and he would soon wake up beside her, surrounded by the gauzy purple curtains of her bed and the warmth of her body.

Perhaps indulging in the same fantasy, Sylvanas spoke his name in a soft whisper.  Not "Blightcaller" or "my Champion."  Not "Ranger Lord Marris."  Just "Nathanos."

"Sylvanas," he replied just as quietly.  "I will _never_ stop loving you.  No matter what happens."

She squeezed him tighter, and he put a hand on the back of her head.

He could barely hear her next whisper.  "I...  I don't know what that means, anymore."

A long moment passed in which they swayed slowly together, her head against his shoulder and his arms around her back.  "I don't know, either," he admitted finally.  "But I _do_ love you.  Of that much I'm certain."

"I need you beside me."

"You have me.  Always."

She said nothing more, but it was quite some time before either of them was willing to let go.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have a sinking feeling Blizzard may be building up to Nathanos turning on Sylvanas and being part of her downfall. If that turns out to be the case, I take no responsibility for the tears shed upon re-reading this fic in the future.


End file.
